The feeling of dying

Useless piece of shit
It's a book with no script
Everyday i grab it and sit
And i flip through pages of it
Looking for stamps and writing within
That prove memories which otherwise can't exist

And im caught out as a lier
While actively denying
That the shit i speak
Is the truth about who i am
Well fuck that
Who needs proof
See me?
In sixteen years i've seen, more shit than can be
Im living proof, as solid as can be
Now believe me
Cus half the shit that i've seen
Has to be described as unreal
But i survived
Yeah i'm still alive
Despite dying a small number of times
But i don't mind
It happend before i could really remember my life

There's only one time i do remember
Which was in the middle of a winter night
Leaning over a window sill, for my life i had to fight
I lost control of my life
I died
Woke the next day with my mother by my side
Crying to me that i scared her
Then she left my side
Blaming me for scaring her from her hide

Makes no sense don't it?
Not my fault i almost died
The way i was born was no chose of mine
That feeling though, the one of loosing sight
Knowing that against your control
Your losing grip on your life
It haunts me
Constantly i remember
The feeling of what it's like to be free
When ever i remember
I feel more like me